Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
628 · Jun 2021
City Lights
Rob Metz Jun 2021
Chasing dreams like an adolescent need,
Feel the heat consume these city streets.
Moving forward, what is it that I see?
These summer nights that become memories.

Good times end before we see them begin,
Feel the thoughts cross of what could’ve been.
City lights shine on the glow that you know,
And you know it’s had you since way back when.

I’m not the same as I used to be,
In what I find the most comforting.
But I know the only thing I need,
You by my side on these city streets.

Shine your glow on me like moonlit beams,
Let me be your escape like a dream.
I’ll hold you tight till these stars collide,
Forever yours under city lights..
I’m not big into writing love poems, but I really like to capture the feel of moments. With this, I wanted to give it some life with an 80’s dance vibe and give the poem some rhythm.
241 · Jun 2019
These Walls
Rob Metz Jun 2019
Within these walls, the mind lingers,
To places we wish to depart.
As the clock ticks forward and never back,
The change from ending to start.

As seasons change and our troubles pass,
New variables come into question.
The joy that has left as anger resides,
And fear builds onto wordless suggestion.

Bound, but not broken, continuing to persist,
Fairness unfounded within these walls.
As favorites are made and the quiet ones played,
Rebellion echoing through the halls.
I wrote this while in jail. It was my first time ever being in such a place, and the isolation I felt being on lockdown and no contact visitation took a toll on my soul. I looked out my tiny window at the deer that were free and grazing with not a worry. For I was the captive, stripped from my family.. I wrote this during a riot after the inmates had enough of our 11 day lockdown which was supposed to be for 72 hours. I was let free twice the entire time for only a half hour each to make a phone call and shower.
209 · May 2019
The Old Man and the Storm
Rob Metz May 2019
Awakened by the crashing sounds of the storm, the old man lay afraid,
Not by the storm itself, but by the fear of what lies in the dark unrestrained.
He’s spent his days collecting items of intrigue and boastful of all combined,
But now as the lights have vanished, his wants and desires soon redefined.

He stumbles. The house shakes with each blow of light from the Gods,
The very thing he needs also sees to tease in flashes. What are the odds?
Prized possessions become meaningless as he rages through the home,
Searching for a light, a glimmer of hope to conquer this storm alone.

The sounds of shattering glass and the bangs of trinkets and literature,
He falls, crawls, and bawls through the damage, as light dances a broken picture.
The old man wishes he would have never left the safety of his warm cozy bed,
But fear pushed him forward, now, keeps him lost and stalemate inside his head.

He lies waiting for the storm to pass as the darkness consumes his will,
He ponders the thought of the fear that’s sought, his curiosity gaining its fill.
His possessions were an obsession of filling a void whose depth was in question,
Gone in an instance of subjection, his actions forward will serve the lesson.

He moves. Pushing against fear was a force he never once recognized,
Self-preservation became the illumination of what was missing in his life.
No more boasting, and not a mutter more of what fake flattery has in store,
For the storm that took everything will leave behind a man reborn.
Don’t rely on items to fill the void in your life or what others think your life should consist of.
208 · Sep 2019
Breathe (In Dreams)
Rob Metz Sep 2019
I breathe under the moonlight,
Conjuring the daylight reminiscent.
Heed these words unsupervised,
Recognize the bound collision.

I breathe through this slumber,
Perilous these nightmares awaken.
Take hold and never let go,
Empathize this known illusion.

What we were will not replicate,
So it goes the story knows the same.
The ending to all our beginnings,
Intertwine these dreams of wild nights.

We are transparent in the shadows,
Burning bridges for a glimpse of light.
The fables we tell ourselves each day,
Fumbling through inner darkened sights.

Defiled by the closing of our night.
204 · Aug 2019
Worthwhile (Worthless)
Rob Metz Aug 2019
This escape, the illusion within that we are profound,
Bound by desires, entirely suggestive and out of context.
The primal shift, the unquenching thirst for acceptance,
The struggle to find a peace of mind within the melancholy.

This apparent shift, from subtle cues to textbox illiteracy,
Catering to the masses, a massive reaction building.
Spiraling down, these dopamine fueled reactions transiting,
How do we escape this rabbit hole of constructed illegitimacy?

Turn your back to the crowd as hard as it may seem,
On this fueled paradox of mobilized dogma and hypocrisy.
One day you may find likeminds who speak volumes to the soul,
Free yourself from this cage, this existential identity entirely.

Escape the void, that’s created by fault lines in other’s eyes,
This crisis within, fixed with tools crafted by other’s time.
What seems to be worthwhile could be worthless in an instant,
Selective content fueling this machine of uninhibited design.

Like moths to a flame, hovering the fire that could scorch their wings,
These shadows in the sun, seeming bigger but not at all the same.
These irreverent norms guided by fallacies of ignorant beliefs,
The audience remains the same, listen to the point but leave out the tragedy.
200 · Aug 2019
The New Wave
Rob Metz Aug 2019
This decadence of American dreams, falling to pieces, unraveling at the seams.
Endless commodities of politics and lunacy, a rebranding of everything that means to be “free”.
Trapped in cages of hopelessness and rage, struggling and impoverished of bottom line wage.
A chokehold on rights with norms of hypocrisy,
this is the new wave of our nations Democracy.

Slipping through the cracks, choices condemning our rationality and all of our facts,
Thoughts and prayers, a plea bargain of despair,
settle for these words settling a lack of care.
Voices demanding action, but falling short again,
time and time we see it clearly, and lacking to win.
The golden rule broken into pieces and sold,
this is the new wave of a nation turned cold.

A juxtaposition of middle class and poverty, where the American Dream is a novelty.
Building walls to escape these faulty lies, hanging by a thread as the innocence dies.
Nobody is safe playing into rich men’s gain, a 1% holding overhead of commoner disdain.
A generation for the lost, as timed out tears commence, this is the new wave of a shattered defense.
193 · Jul 2019
Yesterday
Rob Metz Jul 2019
I’m feeling like our love is just a chalk laid outline,
What once was vibrant now just a memory.
I see our differences, too often I can tell,
Is this our love? Or emotional slavery.

I’ve been too busy climbing mountains in my life,
I thought I was on top but realized you’re the sky.
I spend all this time apologizing and I don’t know why…
Where has it gotten me, just to show I’ll never fly.

I want to fall for you into an endless escape,
But it seems I’ve been pushed down an endless staircase.
Feeling damaged and broken with words you’ve spoken,
Why do I feel like you can’t ever be replaced?

I’ve seen darkness and tragedy has seen me,
It’s shown me these broken pieces of everything.
But in the end that’s ok, I will soak pain in today,
Wear it as armor, to cover the wounds of yesterday.
171 · Mar 2019
Minutes
Rob Metz Mar 2019
If minutes were like loose change, how many are you willing to waste?
What investments do you make with this new currency on your plate?
Money is a motivator, why else would we take time to spend it chasing,
Wanting more and more as moments pass in the background, wasting…

Dig deep into pockets and count out every moment that’s went,
Would you settle for what you’ve got or debate how it could’ve been spent?
Nothing is more troubling than realizing how much time is spent within the mundane,
The could haves and would haves of daydreams within routine, day by day.

Some gamble their earnings on foolishness and follies to feel they belong,
Some hoard every cent and dollar to build egos for walls that stand strong.
Some go in debt with misfortunes and unfortunate decisions paying the piper,
Some never get the chance nor contemplate how this currency is deciphered.

Riches defined by character and awareness, not by silver nor gold,
Surroundings are meaningless when opinions can be bought and sold.
We often look to others to mimic what we feel could make life complete,
And blame them when it falls apart, for they are the highlight to the defeat.

We will always look for perfect moments to make the most of our time,
Or we will squander our days and regret the moments that died.
170 · Jun 2019
No Promise of Tomorrow Told
Rob Metz Jun 2019
As the days grow long and the nights turn cold,
There is no promise of tomorrow told.
Through the ages and the stories that we would tell,
Our times of greatness and the times we fell.

Lessons of the old shall spring forth the new,
As the tides of change come to rest.
The monsters we were but saviours we claim,
Building our thrones as the innocent wept.

The sheep scatter as the wolves run freely,
Rounding about their claim for feast.
They eat in delight although never satisfied,
Hunting the rest, the nature of beasts.

Deep in the valleys our minds do wander,
We come to know ourselves in the low.
As we make our climb up mountains of splendor,
We forget who we are and the low that we know.

Take heed in the present day, and every minute played,
Soak in precious moments like cold rain on summer day.
Let dreams be guides like shining stars ever in sight,
Let them be ever changing, giving away new light.

But, we all must witness our light fall into darkness,
The perils that shape, break, build, and weaken.
For what is good to us can so quickly be taken,
Or bring us where we need like oncoming season.

At the end of our journey on the edge of the earth,
Time will stand still and not a minute to be sold.
Embarking in past memory, to bring final meaning,
As we see there is no promise of tomorrow told.
164 · Feb 2019
Pieces
Rob Metz Feb 2019
This heart breaks with each glance of this place,

This heart breaks into pieces you liked to take...


You said you’d give them back but I know you too well,

The demon I know, living in my own personal hell.

You pull me in right when I feel like shoving back,

You pull me from the depths to plan your sneak attack.

I can’t decide whether to hide or look to you to fly,

You’d clip these wings as you get closer and close (bye).

I make these excuses like I’m clueless of the damage done,

Maybe I refuse it, and confuse it as a game of savage fun.

I want to hold you close, take you in, love on overdose,

But what I fear the most, is the ghosts of when we were close.


Love and hate is all the same when we dance in the rain,

But I can’t help but fall to pieces anytime I hear your name.
157 · May 2019
Damage
Rob Metz May 2019
I’m feeling like our love is just a chalk laid outline,
What once was vibrant now just a memory.
I see our differences, too often I can tell,
Is this our love? Or emotional slavery.

I’ve been too busy climbing mountains in my life,
I thought I was on top but realized you’re the sky.
I spend all this time apologizing and I don’t know why…
Where has it gotten me, just to show I’ll never fly.

I want to fall for you into an endless escape,
But it seems I’ve been pushed down an endless staircase.
Feeling damaged and broken with words you’ve spoken,
Why do I feel like you can’t ever be replaced?

I’ve seen darkness and tragedy has seen me,
It’s shown me these broken pieces of everything.
But in the end that’s ok, I will soak pain in today,
Wear it as armor, to cover the wounds of yesterday.
153 · Jul 2019
Waiting
Rob Metz Jul 2019
Staring out at the starlit sky, with these dark wings I harbor,
Waiting for the perfect sign, all though blinded by the dark.
The tears that streamed through these rivers of lonely,
Waiting, slowly waiting, for signs of redemption to spark.

I feel the distance under these dim lights of the moon,
Looking for answers but always seemingly to come amiss.
Maybe in the darkness is where the answers do lay,
Waiting, slowly waiting, for the taste of life’s vicious kiss.

How I wish to see the sun again, the rays of warmth I seek,
To fill this cold heart, so it can learn to beat once more.
The struggles seem endless, but the winds of change carry on,
Waiting, slowly waiting, for these troubles to pass that I endure.

There isn’t an escape from this lifetime of misery and pain,
Only at the end of days is where all of our answers lay.
This timeless sorrow, the unquenching thirst for relief,
Waiting, slowly waiting, for these cloudy days to go astray.

As I long in waiting, all these feelings come to summarize,
The meaning of tragedy that pours from tightened eyes.
Through this suffering, I’ve felt the bottom in search of height,
As the waiting ends, carry these wounds to the end of the night..
I dedicate this to my Father who recently passed. I wish we had more time...
149 · Jan 2019
Into The Night
Rob Metz Jan 2019
Into The Night

Into the night, many slumber into sleep,
A time where dreams and nightmares are defined.
No escaping the relentless grasp of REM,
Diving into mirrored images of perception in mind.

We are the curators of our dreams as well as destiny,
But we must not waste any amount of time tonight.
For as kings rise and legends are made,
Dreams preparing for tomorrow’s sanctioned fight.

Tossing and turning like choices playing out their schemes,
Searching for comfort in a golden age of sleep.
A timeless rebellion from the mundane routines,
As the mind recollects memories piece by piece.

As darkness looms in the mind and over body,
Awaiting the morning rise to fuel the oncoming machine.
The rising sun anchors, and shines light on the darkness,
But for now we dream into the night, a time unforeseen.
145 · Oct 2018
Time
Rob Metz Oct 2018
Time, the presence of an ending, continuously beginning.
Always turning over as the ticks become louder with,
Time, it’s unstoppable, untouchable, undeniably wasting away.
Cherishing moments, the recollection of fears, the reminder of yesterday.

Only with time will bring the answer to why,
Forgetting the essence of what’s left behind.
Reminding and questioning everything in sight,
How will your time add up at the end of the night?

Calling your name are the obstacles in the way,
Embrace your tragedy like all your past mistakes.
Place your fears so near, never let them slip away,
Fall into wrongful hands, time slips from minutes to days.

Look over the deserts that contain the sands of time,
Is it a barren wasteland? Or fruitfully inclined?
Preparation for the unexpected, or relish in gems of present moments,
A moment in time passes like blinks to the eye, for that is constant.

Only with your time will give a reason to my why,
A handful of mistakes but leaving it all behind.
Reminding me constantly with you in my sight,
How time has added up at the end of the night…

©️Rob Metz
141 · Jun 2020
Chaos
Rob Metz Jun 2020
Can’t seem to help but wonder, the experience in failure.
How tragedy can resonate, the root of our current form.
Answer the riddles of our time, a redirection of the new.
Open minds to the cross eyed, for their vision is skewed.
Shadows dance to steal the glow, always attached to you.
140 · Oct 2018
Ocean View
Rob Metz Oct 2018
The waves crash as my mind slips into the sea,
Far from the shore, but just above sinking.
Floating with the current, navigation without a guide,
Staring at terrors below, where do I flee to hide?

The progress of stalemate has lead only to one direction,
A past of misfortunes claiming coherent connections.
Lack of preparation, the sails of direction torn,
The depth of the situation, the monster status reborn.

Take me away, the reprisal of fear is overwhelming,
Fight, flight, or freeze. Demand for action as emotions overselling.
But it’s all compelling, beauty above as hell is below,
The sharks that lurk to devour all aspects of the ego.

Tearing at the flesh are the ones you thought you knew best,
But enemies hide in plain sight, they just know when to manifest.
Now surrounded by the fears that seems to haunt the memories,
Staring into the endless sea of the vacant possibilities.

©️Rob Metz
139 · Oct 2018
Dear Dad
Rob Metz Oct 2018
Dear Dad,

I’m sorry things ended up this way, I know this must be hard,
Why I abandoned you when you lacked to do your part.
Yeah, I don’t think of it as abandonment, I look at it as moving on,
I tried to relate my situation back to every other sad song.
But I got lost in the progress, waiting around for you to come around,
But then I found that wasn’t aloud, and when it came to me and your friends “I became the crowd..”
I guess I just never realized it until now..

Dear Dad,

Yeah I ignored the texts and calls, I just don’t know what to say,
The only thing you cared about was how your friends felt anyway.
Using my child and me to showcase, hiding your controversies,
Show off our attributes while yours are becoming questioning.
I guess I had a misconception of the direction you wanted to take things,
But the thing that always remained constant was the pain you could bring.
I just wished you knew you were my everything when I felt I had nothing,..

Dear Dad,

I looked up to you and thought you were Superman,
I was your biggest fan, i cherish every moment the best that I can.
The talks we had while jamming Metallica in your guitar room,
I thought we had something special, never thought it would end, who would have knew?
I just wish you knew how bad it hurt to put up these walls in your view,
But no matter how bad you’ve hurt me, I will still always love you.
I just wish you could see it that way too…

Dear Dad,

I’m sorry I don’t want to be part of the party,
I just wish you could have been around rather than say “I’m sorry.”
I’m there for my kid in a heartbeat, I see right through the excuses in you,
“I could have been there and been the greatest Dad too…” is that true?
Guess you can’t live your life without someone telling you what to do,
Let your vision become a revision, staring at cloudy mirrors like they’re see through.
But none of that is going to see through to you…

Dear Dad,

I’m a grown man now with kids of my own,
Learned to live life while you left me alone.
I know the past is an overcast straight to my bones,
But life is like musical preference, I need to find the right tone.
So now I’ve shown how distance can play a massive part,
But distance means nothing, you’ve shown that from the start.
This is why I need to leave behind this damage of the heart… from my dear Dad.

©️Rob Metz
137 · Oct 2018
Shadow Men
Rob Metz Oct 2018
A rarity for thought as the sun beams down,
The shadows that work from all angles.
Mindlessly connected, us and them.
The static is the surrounding noise, opening cue,
We remain assured we are alone.
The raised goosebumps, innocent whim.

She stares into the sea of stars, as the darkness sweeps through her mind.
Little does she know she’s not alone.
Watching with calculated movements now.
They lie in the dark undetected, they know her every move.
Waiting, they never stop waiting.

She recollects and fixates on her worries,
The monster growing with every doubt.
Salivating from the fear, the shadow will wait,
Eyes feasting, inching closer in the dark.
Her walls crumbling,

She paces, her mind races, tormented by her past,
Make it go away with self inflicted rage.
It’s temporary relief for the mind to be at ease,
But the shadows bring out all the fears.
Fear dwelling in the twilight of the night...

Advances little by little throughout the night,
She suddenly feels the goosebumps.
It’s her mind playing tricks at her expense.
The floor creaks, breaking silence deep within.
She lifts in a panic, nobody there...

Ghost sounds fill her imagination, what could they be?
She looks at the lamp, inching closer to bring light.
She twists the ****, light bursts instantaneously.
And there it was, staring back hungrily.
A feast for the eyes beholding…

She screams in terror, the jaws of the shadows locked,
Crawling desperately, escaping a relentless grasp.
Damaged and torn she is, the shadow waits once again,
The poison of the darkness seeping in.
Growing it is, knowing it is not…

She pleads for help but her mouth can no longer project,
Her silence grows and what dies is her intellect.
She lays and waits as the sun soon comes to rise,
As the shadow that loomed now becomes her demise.
The static of silence returns as the darkness hides.

©️Rob Metz
130 · Oct 2018
A Villain to Love
Rob Metz Oct 2018
I just want to love in the end… Love you until the end… Create a destiny alongside my greatest friend… until the end…

But villains don’t get happy endings…

I hate myself for all the mistakes and how they have shown my life to be representing.
But it’s still me, and my mistakes are not what distinguishes me profoundly you see.
I fear many things… but what I fear most is not having the courage to hold back from how my emotions react…
All I ever dream about is having just one more moment to stare at the dreams in her eyes,
But the dreams were drowned with lies and replaced with tears and the throat filled with whys..
I guess it was all the questions I despised, to uncover and discover and realize,
I’m not perfect in any shape or form and I will say it well over a thousand times.

I am broken… But not unfixable.

©️Rob Metz
128 · Feb 2019
You Were, But Never Was
Rob Metz Feb 2019
You were the earth that crushed me in your roots..

You were the wind that took my breath and never gave it back..

You were the fire that burned every chance that was given..

You were the water that proved that you showed no solid stance..

The language of your love has shown an unfamiliar cadence. I have always seemed to learn to dance to the beats of your confusion. We are two sides of the same coin and part of the same void. Living our lives and playing into our (delusion).

There is light and dark to every heart. And there is a time and place where each plays its part. The lesson and the teacher, the listener and the speaker. Each has their time, each seeks to...

                                     ..depart
127 · Oct 2018
The Beauty / The Beast
Rob Metz Oct 2018
The Beauty

Her heart aches for the need to be needed,
Her completion comes through fulfilling others.
Living her destiny as if it were a distant memory,
Just waiting for the weight to topple her over.
Grasping what is and isn't.

Time is wasting us away, the same routine day by day.
Now that we're drifting away, you pull me in that much closer.
You can't let me go because I need you to need me,
I can bring out your change as long as I choose to stay, believing.
Holding on for one more chance.

You keep chasing away those butterflies I once had,
Can't stop thinking about all the time that has passed.
Can you look me in the eyes and say what's on your mind?
Or do I keep guessing and see the real you like I'm blind?
The only price to pay is my peace of mind.

The Beast

Inner reflections, oversee the depravity.
The haunting memory of what used to be.
The decay of values, image perfect for the lie.
The timeless memory, a crafted jaded design.
So we are left broken.

The beast devours but is never full..
Again and again it feeds on the weak.
Pray for prey to insure the hunt,
Conquer your field of dreams.
The hunger never sleeps.

The surprises of decisions half thought,
Acting out our schemes to fill these roles.
Just tell me what you want me to be,
Knowing myself has become the unknown.
Fill the role.

So desperate to communicate, yet begging to disappear.
Your words are salvation, the reassurance from my fears.
Carry this burden in order to set me free,
Carry my curse, the reflections of depravity.
The reflections passed on.

©️Rob Metz
125 · Oct 2018
To The Next Generation
Rob Metz Oct 2018
Let these words be a time capsule for the next generation,
Where this digital age has created slaves to all nations.
“No taxation without representation”, those days have gone by,
Slaves with chains has changed to teens circling the digital mind hive.

We choose to live blind from the issues that bind and intertwine in societies eye,
It only multiplies our cowardice everytime we try to transcribe all these cookie cutter lines.
It seems to me that being original is almost criminal, let’s try to keep it minimal,
But we know it’s subliminal how pitiful it is to ridicule being original, easier to be fictional.

Tell me something that’s real about how anything makes you feel the way you do,
Don’t be so scared to care in determining what’s fair because it matters to me too.
Keep an open mind to different philosophies because we are constantly changing our well being you see,
But no matter what just stick to your gut, trust is a two way street and accidents happen when handled improperly.

There is no living free when you can’t do you and me do me,
And society wants to go backwards like we can live in 1950.
It’s kind of funny when it’s put like that cause all the questions then are now known as facts,
Only cause we had the mindset to question and create rebellion cause change doesn’t come sitting on your ***.

Start a Twitter war, show off your likes, let the narcissism roar,
Be the king of the internet jungle, hide in the shadows looking for more.
There is no need to show face when you’re standing behind this digital mask,
Reinforce the ideas to make false ideals, keep only opinions as the main facts.

©️Rob Metz
115 · Feb 2019
Hidden Monsters
Rob Metz Feb 2019
So many questions come to mind when I start to think about my life,
Who have I become? Why do I feel emotionally numb? Why do I feel stuck?
I pass it off as being caught in a rut, but deep down I know my strife,
I create hidden monsters that foster these thoughts I blame on bad luck.

I try to write and describe these beings so anybody can understand,
How they have learned to attach like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I’m always surprised as they reprise actions I feel are out of my hands,
But what I can’t see I’ve came to realize is what everyone sees showing.

I just feel so lost.

I can’t catch a break when I hear my mistakes again and again,
Some days I have it all and others I barely can call myself a friend.
It’s not easy walking in these shoes with many holes in the sole,
As I contemplate the bad in life, seeing good seems like an unreachable goal.

Cycle through it all, only pay attention to the ending cost,
Went to find myself but realized now my mind is lost.
I wish I knew the differences in real emotions and ones made in my head,
But the only difference is my indifference to change how the monsters are fed.
BPD
110 · Jun 2020
Mists of The Valley
Rob Metz Jun 2020
Serenity calls like a beckoning,
Shelter from the oncoming storm.
Casting shadows, low light from the sun,
Avoiding the incoming reckoning.

Swallowed by the mists surrounding me,
Blinding the world I refused to see.
One step at a time as these changes collide,
All these steps into the blind side of life.

Rewrite the stories in our favor,
Turn the horrors into a heroic fable.
Change the memory of this century,
And chisel these words down into stone.

Tall tales and lullabies bringing down the night,
Star gazing and mesmerizing every last sight.
Wandering along and waiting for a show of light.
Dancing alone in the mists of the valley tonight.

Feeling so blind when it comes to reaching out,
Expressed in these steps of a path made of doubt.
Confusion is necessary at times when the load is heavy,
The only understanding is the choices of the route.

Looking far beyond the steps that lie ahead,
Where will your tracks lead to keep this machine fed?
Swimming through consciousness as thoughts collide,
Hazily wandering in the mists of the valley tonight.

— The End —